Trapped
by SandraSmit19
Summary: All she wanted was to get away from him, but sometimes there is no escape, sometimes there is no way out. Implied Abuse Warning.


Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original character, Kara.

Warnings: Implied Abuse/Original Character.

Note: Oh look, another wrestling story, lol. Well, this is really just a one chapter thing for now. If any of you like it, I'll try writing more, but for now, as short as it is, I hope you enjoy this. This takes place in 2001, in the WWE(F).

She held her breath as she slipped out of bed, praying that he wouldn't wake up. If he woke up and got mad, while she was already in pain…she couldn't bear to think about it. She quietly crept to the bathroom, still listening for any changes in his breathing pattern, and stepped in, softly shutting the door.

She didn't turn on the light, but instead fumbled for the battery charged lamp she had left in the cabinet underneath the sink the previous night. Turning it on, she was momentarily blinded, blinking several times before her eyes adjusted to the artificial but bright light. She took a deep breath and steeled herself before looking at herself in the mirror.

She had to stifle a gasp at the sight of her face, still not used to seeing the effects of his rage, even after so many years. She had known her face was swollen, of course, but this…The entire left side of her face was twice the size it should have been. There was no way she'd be able to cover it up with make-up, it would be like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound.

She had to get the swelling down, but how? She was pondering if she could possibly call roomservice for icecubes at 4:35 a.m., without waking up her husband, when she remembered the ice-pack she had put in the minibar fridge the morning before. She had anticipated needing it and was now glad she had.

Retrieving the pack silently turned out to be something of a challenge, but she finally made it back to the bathroom, pack in hand, husband still asleep. She broke the pack to activate it, feeling her muscles work as she did so. She wryly mused that it was ironic that for all her weight training, for all her attempts to become stronger, she stood no chance when it came to defending herself from the person she needed defending from the most, her own husband.

She pushed the thought away as she gently pressed the ice-pack to her face, hissing as it sent intense pain shooting through her entire head. She was grateful that the pack was large and covered the entire left side of her face; she had only one pack and there was a lot of swelling that needed to be taken down.

She stood there like that for a long while and by the time the pack began to melt, her face was numb and slightly blue but she was gratified when she realized it had worked, the swelling had gone down substantially. There was still some difference between both sides of her face but she was sure that as long as she didn't look anyone straight in the eye, she could get away with it.

Not that she needed to worry about anyone noticing such a small thing. Her husband didn't allow her to mingle with the other superstars and, as such, she had no friends. The other superstars thought her to be anti-social and she thought them to be blind, so staying away from eachother worked for both sides.

So, the others wouldn't notice, she wasn't scheduled to be on camera and she had only recently had a meeting with the boss, so that wasn't in the cards either. If she kept her head down, no one would know.

She sighed as she tossed the now useless pack on the counter, momentarily forgetting to be quiet. She winced at the noise and once again held her breath, full expecting her husband to come barging into the bathroom, demanding to know what she thought she was doing.

She shuddered at the thought of the beating that would inevitably follow as she listened for any sign that she had awoken the man she had once thought to be the love of her life. She released the breath she was holding when she realized he wasn't coming, taking several deep breaths to steady her nerves and calm her rapidly beating heart.

So many years and she still got careless from time to time. How many years had it been? She stood for a moment, silently counting. She had known him for eight years, had been married to him for six and the abuse had been taking place for five. _Only_ five years. It felt like much longer.

She sighed again, gently prodding her no longer numb face. The swelling had returned slightly but a single glance in the mirror told her that it wasn't enough to make a difference. She turned the light off, placing it back in the cabinet, before padding over to the door.

Stepping out, she tip-toed her way back to the bed and slipped under the covers again. There was only about an hour left before they had to get up so she wouldn't be sleeping, but he liked it when she was there when he woke up. Or more importantly, he _didn't _like it when she _wasn't _there when he woke up, and when he didn't like something…

A muscular arm reached for her as she laid herself down, wrapping around her waist like a steel band, pulling her back into a hard chest.

"Where were you?" he asked.

He sounded sleepy but she knew it was no casual inquiry. She was to answer and fast.

"In the bathroom," she told him softly, hoping he would leave it at that.

A small snort came from behind her. "Checking your bruises, huh? Hope you know you deserve them."

She said nothing, she didn't need to, he didn't expect her to. He was right, she was wrong, that's how it always was. There was no debate. His arm tightened around her waist for a moment before he settled down. She waited for his breathing to even out before she relaxed slightly.

She felt the heavy weight of his arm around her, keeping her in place. Trapped, that's what she was. That's what she'd always been, even when she had thought him to be her dream come true. Once, she had had dreams of leaving him, of throwing her wedding band in his face and walking out.

Her fear, however, made leaving all but impossible and the one time she had worked up enough courage to try to leave, she hadn't gotten very far. She had to suppress a shudder, that had been one of the worst beatings, if not the worst beating, he had ever given her.

She had learned her lesson. She wouldn't try again. There was no point anyway. She had nowhere to go. Five years of hell had served to cut her off from everything she had once had. Family, friends, even casual acquaintances, they were all gone. And so, she was stuck, stuck in a marriage that would eventually be the death of her, she knew that for a fact. When she would die, she didn't know, but she knew there was no escaping him. She had simply been mrs. Rob Van Dam for too long.

Note: ROB VAN DAM, I hear you cry. Well, yes, RVD. I know, I know, he's one of the most laid back people ever and he'd never be like this. Probably not, but this is my version of Rob Van Dam, nice guy when everyone can see, bad guy when no one's around.


End file.
